The wailing echoes against the empty chambers
I felt no tears left to spill
No soft petals left to pluck from the once beautiful rose
No sing song voice whispering
I love myself
I love myself...not
The tug of war raging on for centuries
Continues against the backdrop of my cracked soul
The old scars reveal themselves again
Fine lines & even deeper marks, spread,
A spider web across the glass window to my soul
The darkness has me now and I can do nothing but sit
But
The sound is soft at first
The cry of the pipe, its forlorn note hangs suspended
The voice begins, beckoning
The words are irrelevant, but the memory suspended above me
Dares me to step away from this prison
To reach higher
To take the hand outstretched.
I wonder...
Perhaps I'll take the dare.
Perhaps.
©SKW
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